Dragon Age: Redux
by walkingandthinking
Summary: A retelling of the events in Dragon Age: Origins, mostly through the eyes of Surana. Eventual Surana/Alistair.


Lynalis walked silently through the dark stone halls she had come to know and love, knots twisting in her stomach. Good thing too, otherwise it surely would be filled with butterflies. It was the middle of the night, not that she could see much of a difference, being in the Tower. The templar that had pulled her from bed strode on ahead of her, and hadn't so much as glanced at her since waking her. If she strained to listen she could head crickets chirping somewhere far below.

Her mind was racing, a natural self-defense that had a tendency to flare up when she was feeling anxious or nervous. Her thoughts flitted back between the last text she has read on the Fade, and a new plan she was working on with Jowan to rile up the templars. Though her friend had been strangely serious these past few days, she hadn't much time to dwell upon it. The thought of her Harrowing had her jittery. The harsh clunk of metal on wood brought her back to reality, as the templar accompanying her pushed the door open and waited for her to pass through. She moved past, and was slightly taken aback by the audience that awaited her.

The First Enchanter stood next to the Knight-Commander, with whom he seemed to be arguing with perpetually. Both looked gravely serious, as they watched her approach. Beside the two of them stood two other young looking templars, one of which she recognized. She smiled brightly at him, and gave him a small wave. Cullen blushed, and squeezed his eyes shut. The Knight-Commander, Greagoir, gave him a stern look, which he did not see.

Oops. She hadn't meant to get him into any kind of trouble. Lyn finally reached the group, each one giving her a nod in turn, except for the thoroughly embarrassed Cullen. Despite the seriousness of the moment and the weight of the task that was set before her, she could only barely stifle a giggle at his response to her. Greagoir seemed to grasp that some sort of light-hearted exchange was going on, and was determined to crush it.

"Magic exists to serve man, never to rule over him. Thus spoke the prophet, Andraste, and she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin." His voice echoed off the stone walls of the vast room in which they stood. She vaguely wondered if he had kept this room empty purely for that effect when he brought young apprentices here, to scare them. It was a shame that she didn't scare quite that easily.

She was tempted to roll her eyes at his religious references, but caught herself. She thought it best to not instigate his temper now, when she would be in his mercy in but a few minutes. Should she decide to show her lack of faith in his Chantry, she would surely suffer his consequences later. He was on her case enough as it was already, with Irving's slight favoritism.

He continued on, unaware that she wasn't really paying him any attention. "Your magic is a gift, but it is also a curse, for demons of the dream realm-- the Fade-- are drawn to you and seek to use you as a gateway into this world." He strode back and forth between First Enchanter Irving and Cullen, who had finally reopened his eyes, but was trying his best not to look at her. Had they been any where else at this moment, it would have caused her to crack a grin. Greagoir stopped his pacing when he was suddenly interrupted.

"This is why the Harrowing exists." Irving cut in. He didn't seem to have too much patience for Greagoir at the moment, though he did his best to respectfully carry on where the Knight-Commander had left off. "The ritual will send you into the Fade, and there you will face a demon, armed only with your will." He circled around her, his eyes looking both tired and worried, she noticed. He had aged greatly since their first meeting, as his silver hair was testament to. He paused by her side, hand on her shoulder in a caring manner, and looked into her green eyes, looking for some indication within them.

"I will not fail you, First Enchanter." She said formally, hoping to reassure him of her power with her gaze. He knew she was strong, and that she was ready, but she could tell that he still worried none-the-less, as a father may worry for his daughter.

"I should hope not." Greagoir's voice boomed, interrupting the moment. "Should you fail, you will become an abomination, and the templars will be force to slay you." Her eyes followed Greagoirs to Cullen, who hung his head shamefully, and she understood. Her eyes met Greagoirs again, and her led her forward to the pedestal that stood in the center of the room. "This is Lyrium. The very essence of magic, and your entrance into the Fade."

The pedestal glowed a faint blue color, and she gazed into the small bowl. If it had not been for the glow, she would've thought it ordinary water. She seemed to be lost in its glistening surface. To think that such a substance was what allowed her the substantial power she contained. She glanced at her hand, before slowly starting to extend it outward, toward the pedestal.

"The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child." Irving's voice caused her to jump a little, and she would've sworn that she heard a small chuckle from him because of if. She withdrew her hand, holding it close to her chest."Every mage must go through this trail by fire. As we succeeded, so shall you. Keep your wits about you. And remember, the Fade is a realm of dreams. the spirits may rule it, but your own will is real." He grasped her by the shoulders, his face more serious that she had seen in quite some time. He looked at her for a while, holding her like that. He was starting to make her feel more nervous. "You will succeed." He stated, as fact.

Greagoir stepped in, putting some distance between her and her mentor. "The apprentice must go through this alone, First Enchanter." He softly reminded Irving.

"Yes...of course." Irving relented, though he was less than pleased about it. "You are ready, child."

She nodded, stepping forward to stand before the Lyrium pool once again. This was it. This was what she had studied her whole life to be. Everything had led to this one moment of do or die. She took a deep breath, and plunged her hand into the Lyrium. She began to glow an unearthly light, causing her observers to shield their eyes.

Then, in one swift moment, the light was extinguished, and she collapsed to the cold stone floor.

~~~*~~~

It really shouldn't have been any surprise, he had seen dozens of Harrowings, both successes and failures. And yet, his heart still jumped as he saw her collapse. The urge to move forward and catch her was nearly overwhelming, but one look from Gregior was enough to crush it. Instead Cullen stood at attention and didn't move, though his face grew ashen at the sight of her collapsed form.

Her short red hair, typically tousled as she ran her hand through it while reading some sizable tome in the library, had fallen over her face, blocking it from his view. Perhaps it was better that way, though the need to kneel beside her and brush it out of her eyes was rising. He had seen the faces of other apprentices as they went through their Harrowing, and it wasn't always pleasant. He didn't think that he could bear to see her face twisted and contorted in such a manner. No more than he could bear to see her become an abomination, and be forced to...to...

No, the thought was unbearable. His gaze fell on Greagoir, who was looking at him sternly. Cullen knew exactly why Greagoir had chosen him to be present for this particular Harrowing, and had unwillingly given him precisely the answer the Knight-Commander had needed. His heart had soared, as she flashed that brilliant smile his way, and his reaction had been the same as it always was around her. Fluster, blushing, and eventually looking away. He shouldn't even entertain thoughts such as these, but he found it nearly impossible not to. She seemed to have a light about her that drew him to her, as a flame might draw a moth.

Since he had joined with the templars that guarded the tower, he found that he enjoyed watching her, while she studied in the library. The light from the narrow windows fell on her just right, making it seem as if she glowed with radiance. She was a single beacon of light in this dark, dank tower. It was a while before he had realized what had happened and was horrified by it. To, to... fall for an elven mage. He refused to use the "L" word. His attraction was unthinkable, though he found himself hard-pressed to deny it. She would occasionally talk with him, as he worked his shift, her beautiful green eyes sparkling mysteriously as she looked up at him. She would tell him how boring simply standing in the hallways must be, day after day. He would smile, and stutter. She would smile back, before continuing on her way.

Now, though he could not see her face, he knew that no dazzling smile graced her fine features. He found that there was nothing more that he wanted to see at this moment.


End file.
